The Best Kind Of Mess
by LiveLoyalDieRoyal
Summary: If Morty knew anything about Rick-it's that he loved to get very drunk. Many think it's just because he's a hopeless alcoholic, which is what Morty thought too. But he has his reasons.


Morty looked around the house. It was completely trashed from top to bottom.

He never put it past his sister Summer or grandpa Rick to throw some of the wildest parties in the whole galaxy. His eyes scanned the whole room he was in, seeing all the trash from earthly objects and otherwise scattering the floor.

He looked down at his feet, watching his white shoes kick around many beer cans and bottles that he's sure a great deal came from his grandfather. "Morty? Why aren't you having a good time?" he heard a familiar feminine voice come from his left side.

He looked up to meet Summer's half drunk gaze. She didn't even know why she asked, Morty was never one to have a "good time".

Or at least what she considered a good time.

"Oh, I don't like this Summer. You know this. I mean, mom and dad won't be back for a long while so, I guess it's okay for now. But leave me out of it please." he mumbled, breaking their gaze to continue watching his feet rustle around the empty cans and bottles.

She opened her mouth a little to say something but was dragged away by one of her friends. Morty was left alone on his spot on the couch, and he liked it that way. Sure there was loud, blaring music and yelling and lots of loud voices, but he was in peace with himself.

As long as nobody tried to talk to him. And nobody did. For a while. "Morty! Morty!" he heard booming through the house. He was surprised himself that he heard it over everything else. Perhaps because it was his own name calling him.

He lifted his head up, his body following with it at the urgency. He started to run through the house until he found the source of the noise.

It was Summer again.

"Y-Yes, S-summer?" he muttered, looking at her with the timid eyes he always wore. She had her hands placed softly on her hips as she flickered her eyes down to the floor real quick, waiting for Morty to do the same.

He did and his eyes laid upon Rick, his grandpa, drunk and sprawled all over the floor. "Oh jeez, Rick." he shook his head, looking back up at Summer, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. Summer stood there for a bit, waiting until she sighed loudly.

"I didn't call you in here to stare at him, take him up to bed! Take him to your bed." she rolled her eyes, leaving again before Morty got a say in anything. "Morty..Morty, Morty..you're a good kid Morty, a real good kid." Rick muttered in his low voice, layered with alcohol.

A few of his words were dragged out in a burp, a few separated by the repulsive noise. Morty rolled his eyes and tucked his hands under Rick's long arms, practically dragging him to the stairs.

"Stop Morty, stop dragging me, y-y-y-you're frustrating me." he jerked against Morty's small, teenage force, jerking out of his grip. His stutter was where he burped this time, stuttering on y's and w's just like Morty did.

He sighed and admittedly, got a little frustrated like his granddad claimed to be. Rick tried to stand, fumbling about with the railing of the stairs and fell down, his head hitting it hard.

"What the hell Rick? I-I-I'm trying to help you and you can't sit still?" Morty raised his voice, furrowing his brow at the man that now had a huge blackening bruise on his forehead. He heard the stutter come out in himself as he tucked his hands where they were before, determined to get Rick the the room this time.

He pulled him harshly up the stairs, ignoring every loud outburst he made. It was a bumpy ride, but he finally got him into his own bedroom. "Come on." Morty huffed, putting all his effort into sitting Rick on the bed. He breathed to himself and stood in front of him, making sure he stayed put.

Rick slumped over a little, not onto his side though. Morty had his hands on his hips like Summer had and his brow was still furrowed at the man. A few minutes after standing there and watching Rick, he started to leave but heard a soft sound.

He knew what it was-it was crying.

But he never had heard it out of Rick or anything or one near Rick.

"R-Rick?" he asked, stepping closer to him until he was standing in front of him again. "It's her fault Morty. Alllll her fault." the older man cried softly, placing tight hands on Morty's soft shoulders, his head still slumped and looking down.

"W-w-what's her fault? Who is her?" Morty asked, tensing a bit at the strong grip Rick had on his shoulders. "Her, Morty. Vanna. S-s-sheee did this to me." he continued to cry until he lifted his head, looking Morty deeply in the eyes.

Morty didn't know who this Vanna was, but whoever she was, she must have hurt Rick deeply. "Vanna was mean. Oh Morty, she was hateful. So I left, but she left me first. Morty, she led me to drink. I'm a drinker, Morty. It's her fault. I'm a mess Morty, a mess because of her." he cried louder, their eyes still locked.

Morty didn't have a thing to say. He had never seen his grandpa like this. Nowhere near this. He placed his small hands on Rick's that still grip his shoulders and moved them onto his back.

He pulled his granddad into a tight hug.

"You're not a mess Rick. You're amazing. You take me all kinds of weird places, you give me experiences nobody else can have. You're my grandpa. You're my best friend. You're my hero, Rick." Morty smiled into the crook of Rick's neck, feeling him hold him tightly in the hug, he can tell he needed it.

He heard no more crying from Rick as he finally felt him pull away and saw him wipe his mouth of excess spit as he smiled. "Hero, huh?" He put his hand back on his shoulder, then tousled his brown hair.

"Love you kiddo." he smiled. "Love you too, Rick." Morty sighed happily.


End file.
